A Child of Misfortunes - Part Eight - Letters Twelve and Thirteen

Now and again I will hear from someone that Rebecca Codwise is a bit of a whiner. I have to disagree. These letters represent her only chance to communicate her situation and her emotional state to the mainland. She uses every trick in the book including exaggeration and self-pity to remind the reader that she is still out there. She is saying "Don't forget me." She is saying, "I could be useful to you if you would set up things for me to live in the States and care for my children. What sounds like "whining" is actually a very desperate attempt to get back to her family before she dies. She is in fact, quite sick. She complains about it as the sick sometimes do. She is being bled by the local doctor, which only makes her weaker, but back then it was believed to allow the disease to leave the body through the blood. She has reached a point with her son George, where she seems to have recognized that he can do no good for her. She hardly ever writes to him anymore except to tell him to give something she is sending to one of the children. He doesn't return her letters and this irks her to no end. A death letter is also included here. It contains a description of the final hours of her daughter Caroline's life. This death letter is written to her oldest daughter Agnes Marie, living in New Brunswick, NJ. Caroline is dying of what today would be considered a flu. It was not unusual to die of a bad sore throat back then. In fact, that seems to have been the cause of Washington's death in 1799. The death scene for Caroline is probably a bit over-played by Rebecca.

Dr. George W. Codwise Brooklyn

Mt. Victory July 14th 1832

My Dear George

I have not time to write you by this opportunity, but have strained my poor eyes to write to my poor

John to see if it will have a good effect on him which I trust it may. We received your letters by

the Jubilee and Carlo. They have affected my mind very much. Oh how I long to see you and enfold

you all once more in my arms, but I am afraid that happiness is not in store for John's

conduct has put me considerably back. Your Father cannot write by this vessel, but I am in hopes

that he will by the return of the Carlo. Cornelia writes now.

I hope you got the box containing the sandboxes which the Children sent by Dr Charming.

I must bid you adieu my beloved George , and accept of the same from all your fond Family

- Sincerely your Fond Mother

R Codwise

I have kept John's letter open for your perusal.

Mount Victory Oct 14th 1832

My Beloved Son

I was very much disappointed at not getting a line from you by the General Warren,

if it was only to say that you were well, it would have relieved my distressed brain,

for I am continually in a state of alarm for fear of hearing some bad news. You know what an anxious

Mother I am. I know you have but few moments to spare but you must not let an opportunity

escape without letting us hear from you, as your duties are such that you are exposed

[his duties as a physician exposed to disease]But I trust that the All Wise Providence

will spare your precious life for the sake of your poor oppressed family.

This letter will be handed to you by Miss Farrell. She will be able to give you all the particulars

about us. We called on her frequently but she has not returned our visits. I have left Cornelia's letter

open for your perusal. If she is not in New York [visiting with Uncle David and Aunt Patty],you must

seal it up and send it to her. Your Father seems very anxious to leave this place. He says he

cannot remain here any longer tolling for nothing and wearing out his constitution.

Could I but see you and all my absent Children I would be thankful. Do try and see

if it could not be possible for you to establish yourself on shore. It would be better for

us all to be together and enjoy the society and counsel of each other and unite our

prayers together - it is my sincere wish.

It is probably in a few weeks a friend of ours Mr Hill will be coming on to America.

Will you pay him all the attention you can for our sakes, as he has been a sincere

friend to us. His sister is now in New York - pay her also some attention.

We are all well and united with me in love to yourself and all my Absent Children.

I remain your Affectionate Mother

Rebecca Codwise

PS. I have given in charge to Mr. David Rogers [her cousin) a package containing

two patterns of dresses for your Sister Cornelia. I wish you would call at his store and receive

it from him. Instead of leaving open your Sister's letter as I first intended, I have enclosed it

and sealed it fearing you might not be in the City - but should it meet you, then it is my earnest

wish that you should open and peruse it, that you may join with me in cautioning her strictly to

adhere to the advice that your Father and myself have given her. [This probably refers to Cornelia's

relationship with a man she had been seeing.]

[Not addressed, but this letter is to her oldest child, Agnes Marie, a widow living in

New York with her daughter Mary Rebecca and Mary's husband of four years, Nicholas Williamson.]:

St. Croix 10 July 1842 My Beloved Agnes

I wrote you last the 26th of May by the Brig. Elvira, since which I am without any letters from you.

In my last I informed you of the extreme low state of your dear Sister [Caroline Matilda} and that

it was not possible for her to survive many days. Yet as if by supernatural strength, the Lord sustained

her till the 20th until in happy triumph she breathed her last at 5 A.M., her precious Soul ascending to

her God that gave it, resting in the bosom of her Jesus that redeemed it, robbing Death of his sting,

and the Grave of Victory by her unshaken Faith in her Redeemer's Blood. [she was 35]

She was most peculiarly blessed in the latter hours of her confinement by the pastoral

services of a very devout and affectionate Moravian Missionary and his Wife who had lately arrived

at our Moravian establishment here a Mr. Cook who said he was well acquainted with Brother

David professionally, [the Reverend David Abeel, the uncle of Agnes's husband, Nicholas Williamson]

For about three weeks he unwearingly visited sometime two and three times a day reading,

conversing and praying with her, and not only disclosed to us, but to many of our friends that he

never in his whole life attended such a death bed, with such full triumphant

Faith; often when she would see any one of us weeping at a distance, or even looking anxious,

she would reprove us saying she was not suffering and would soon be happy and better provided

for than in the whole eighteen months of her confinement. She was never heard to utter a complaint,

a murmur or even a groan or slight to escape from her lips. Though often suffering extreme pain,

she retained all her full senses, possibly - more acute than ever - to the very last, and took an affectionate

farewell a few minutes before she expired. With her eyes fixed on all around, she dutifully said goodbye.

I kissed her and asked if she knew me. She answered yes, and as she felt the last breath escaping,

she faintly waved her hand and breathed her last. Without a groan or a struggle her precious Soul

ascended to her Father's pleasures there to commence Its endless eternity of bliss and happiness.

Of all the deaths I have ever witnessed, and they are many, I never witnessed so pure, so heavenly a

departure as this. Oh that God will grant us all that we may die the death of the Righteous, and that

our last end like hers may be peace.

A few months before her decease she distributed all her wearing apparel among her Sisters having

given up the World and chosen the better part which will last forever. And about a few days, feeling her

end approach, and having a few dollars of her own earning, she begged of me to add to it, and with this

she bought some pieces of mourning for each of the servants and with her own hands made it for them

to wear as mourning for her when she was wearing her shroud In the Grave.

I have written your Brother George informing him of his Sister, have directed it to him at New Bedford

[Massachusetts), where his Navy ship was now stationed].Whether it will reach him or not I am not able to say.

Should you have any opportunity of informing him in any way I wish you would not fail to do it.

I am sorry to inform you Dear Agnes that within the last year I have been quite sickly and

infirm both in body and mind. In the Fall I had an attack of fever [the last page of this letter is missing]